The Tales the Dead Could Tell
by Dr Harry Cunningham Lied To Me
Summary: Nikki and Harry relieve a little tension after a tough case, Leo is not entirely suprised


A little bet with a friend that led to my first foray into the world of fanfiction, please enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Silent Witness' or its characters.

_**The Tales The Dead Could Tell.... **_

Act I- Latex Gloves and Forbidden Loves

"No, it's not ok. You're sure I can't speak to the Professor myself? And you're sure Monday is the earliest? Well thank you for very little!"

Harry was still fuming with rage as he snapped his mobile shut. Nikki had removed her gloves and was sterilizing her hands at the sink on the far side of the Autopsy Room. She had been pretending not to follow the conversation but, in reality, she had been listening intently. Still, best to give Harry an opportunity to vent...

"What was that about, Harry?"

"Bloody Tox Lab" he sighed, "the results won't be in until half way through Monday at the earliest. By then we may well have another body on our hands and the whole thing will have become quite academic".

"I'm sorry"

"What use is sorry at this stage? I mean, for Christ's sake Nikki...!"

"Harry, the really is no need to shout!"

For a moment the room silent, save only for the low hum of the tape recorder and the steady drip of water into the low metallic sink. Harry put his head in his hands and the tension dissipated.

"You're right Nikki. It's been a long day and I think we could both use a drink. I mean, the bruising around the arms is consistent with his being pushed but there's not a trace of fibre on him. Not to mentions the lacerations around the..."

"Doctor Cunningham, I really do think it would be a good idea if you were to think of something, just once, other than this case. Or at least give the illusion of it", Nikki interjected. Her playful half-smile let Harry know she wasn't serious. He returned the smile weakly and turned towards the doors. There was no more that they could do now except wait and, what was worse was, they both knew it.

"As for the drink, Harry, I'm afraid I'll have to respectfully decline your offer". Nikki's voice had stopped Harry in his tracks. There was an unusual note in it; a tone of some concealed intention. "I've got to write up the autopsy notes on that John Doe and, of course, my office is a mess... there are files everywhere... and..." She let her voice trail off, realizing that her hasty excuse had fallen flat.

A smile curled on Harry's face. "Is it a man, Doctor Alexander? Why! You're blushing! The queen of the young professional single set has finally thought with her heart! Do tell all, I could use some good news after a day like this".

"No, no. Nothing like that". His raised eyebrow and quizzical smirk angered her more than she could verbalize. She felt the anger rising, "Honesty, Harry. Nothing like that!".

"Ok, right, sure. You've always been a terrible liar. I hope that by tomorrow you'll have swallowed your pride enough to talk about it like an adult." He turned again and resumed his walk to the door, thankful that he had something to muse over other than this newest infuriating case. He was pushing open the cold and weighty bars of the double doors when he heard her voice again, uncharacteristically plaintive and weak.

"No, don't go".

Harry stopped instantly as if physically punched. Nikki turned back to the sink and bit her lip. Fuck, why did she have to say it? Think it but not say it, Nikki, always think it but don't say it. She berated herself to no avail. Yet, it had been said and now… She shouldn't look. Harry had turned to face her, his eyes boring deep into hers as if trying to dredge her soul for her darkest intentions.

If you were to ask them later who had first moved towards whom, neither would have been able to say for certain. Before another moment had passed, both had bounded the distance of the room between them and locked each other in the tightest of crushing embraces. Their kiss was at first deep, with an animalistic ferocity, slowly and gingerly changing so they pulled away until they were merely touching tenderly. The only sound that Nikki could hear above the runaway-train surging of her heart, was the low rumble of Harry's breathing, magnified by his closeness.

She relaxed her grip on him a little and he responded. Perhaps it was her imagination but she thought he looked uncharacteristically timid, a bead of sweat on his forehead betraying his nerves. How could this be? The great Harry Cunningham spooked by a girl? As the moments dragged on, both became aware of the deafening silence ringing around the cold silvery walls of the lab. They were both standing quite still; unsure of how this wild passion play would continue; unsure of each other, perhaps, as well, despite such a friendship for so many years; unsure of whether their working relationship would ever be quite the same again.

Act II- Rigor Mortis

Harry seemed to sense the tension and realized the need for decisive action. His embrace tightened as he threw Nikki, perhaps a little too roughly, onto the chrome autopsy slab. She gasped, not just from the impact and suddenly, before she could regain her breath, Harry was kissing her neck, tenderly biting and exploring; his mind intoxicated with the heady scent of her Parisian perfume. She mumbled something inaudible in her passion as she felt Dr. Cunningham's hand exploring softly around her navel and pressing inexorably lower; his curiously perfect fingers on his soft, gentle hands snaking with obvious intent.

Nikki, already maddened with desire, flailed wildly, knocking over a tray of instruments, scalpels and soft tissues. The loud clatter of metal on tile made the lovers stop momentarily and recognize their eccentric surroundings. To the right of Harry a bag of dissected kidneys had fallen to the floor with a low thud, followed by a sickening squelch as the bag pierced on a scattered scalpel and its contents began to ooze and bubble in contact with the air.

Harry, used to these macabre happenings, could only shake his head and laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He looked down and saw Nikki's face also curl into a knowing smile. For a ten second eternity they each looked at the other, examining, with a trained, clinical intent, the gaze of their paramour. Harry, eventually, cleared his throat. When his voice forced its way out, it was husky and strained with emotion.

"Dr. Alexander, perhaps we ought to move somewhere...um.... less... um.... sterile".

Nikki looked taken aback for a moment. He was right. Of course he was right. But, if they went back to his house, or hers, would the moment have passed? They had taken enough time to get here, and she wasn't going to give up without a fight and let their relationship lapse back in to polite but frustrating repression. She took a moment to catch her breath.

It was then that she heard, tinny and far away, the sound of a radio from the preparation lab. Charlie was working late tonight and had, clearly, decided that dissection was best completed to the accompaniment of Radio 2. She could just make out the sound of the distant tune, conjuring up vague and almost tangible memories. Yes, that melody... It was "Africa" by Toto. She'd loved this song for a lifetime. For her, it was synonymous with her young adulthood in South Africa, of leafing through the family box of vinyl records and listening covertly to the American greats. It showed her, in a moment, the heat and beauty to her most beloved continent; the scent and sights of her first hidden crushes and the awakening of sexual desire. She bit her lip and set her resolve.

"Or, Dr. Cunningham" she countered, "you could stop being such a big girl's blouse and fuck me".

She immediately reached forwards with her hand and grabbed Harry's crotch. She was a little taken aback with what she found. Harry Cunningham's cock was moderate in size but as hard as _The Times_ Killer Su Doku... And, she was sure, far more pleasant to do.

Now it was Harry's turn to gasp at her forwardness. He pulled away and stood, looking at Nikki, his dear Nikki, lying prone on that well worn metal slab. He turned his gaze to his left and saw another body on another slab. How very different did the gift of life make flesh? One was an item, the other, a person. One, now offering to make him feel so ecstatically alive, the other, not half an hour before, had been making him question his own terrifying mortality. They really ought to out the poor guy back in the fridge.... But Nikki: so alive, cheeks flushed red, deep breathing causing quivering in every sinew and tissue of her perfect body. How fleeting is the gift of life, this briefest enchantment of lifeless carbon? We are raised, we dance and love and sink back into the stars that bore us in their Nova.

He removed his scrubs top, then his scrubs trousers and m&s boxers and then, again, he was on top of her, pulling down her scrubs and knickers, urgent now to grasp Nikki as he resolved to grasp life; every glorious, ecstatic and hedonistic moment lived to its very peak. There she was, half naked and, again, smiling ruefully and unintelligibly.

"Wha-what's the matter?" he stammered.

"Oh, nothing, Dr. Cunningham" She answered languidly, "I was just thinking about how much simpler things would have been if we'd have done this a little sooner. Now, don't just stare at it!" She laughed.

Act III- Leo's Choice

The lobby smelled vaguely of newly laid carpet and fresh paint. The University had given the forensic department an entire re-fit recently. It was still grey, blue, mismatched and gloomy, just in a slightly fresher way. As Leo walked with little purpose through this soulless corridor, he felt a little too old to be working until gone midnight on a weekday. His muscles were achingfrom the ravages of the day and the strain of this impossible case.

Retirement, what a word! A little village in the Cotswold's and another chance to start a family. Still, one more cup of coffee first and another look over those files....

It was then that a flash of movement caught his eye. The corridor was passing over the top of the autopsy room just where a large Plexiglas viewing window had been put in place to non-pathologists to view the gruesome work of Leo's profession. He craned his neck to see better through the viewing window. The room underneath was almost entirely in darkness apart from the low glow from the Fire Exit signs and the light spilled from the perimeter doors and windows. Still, he could definitely see movement down there; violent and repetitive movement in the half darkness. Instinctively Leo reached for the microphone button to call down to the room when he heard a piercing sound, half scream, half gasp, coming from the speakers. In his panic Leo assumed the worse, Nikki (for the voice was certainly hers!) must be under attack. In an instant, he vaulted for the other side of the corridor and smashed the fire alarm.

Over the instantaneous shrill of the alarms he heard, to his astonishment, the voice of Harry, carrying through the speakers,

"Bloody hell, fire alarm! Wait here Nikki, I'll get the lights".

Moments later, strip lights flickered into life in the autopsy room and Leo risked another look down. What he saw would never leave him; Harry Cunningham, stark naked at the far side of the room, scowling at the light switch as if blaming it for interrupting his tryst. On the nearest mortuary slab, also entirely naked, was the body of Nikki Alexander; eyes thankfully closed and her breasts rising and falling in time with her deep breathing.

Before he could be noticed, Leo flung himself below the window and out of sight. He laughed to himself a little, thinking of how he would do exactly the same in Harry's position. He could hardly blame them, though their choice of location left much to be desired. The image of Nikki's naked body still burned with force at the very front of his mind. A few moments later, two security guards came bounding around the corner.

"Professor, is everything ok? Are you hurt?" One called.

"No, no, I'm quite fine" Answered Leo. "There's no fire either. Sorry, false alarm. I must have, um, fallen against the alarm."

The guards seemed satisfied and soon left. Eventually, the alarms stopped. A few moments later, the low mumble of conversation in the room below was replaced, again, by gasps and cries of ecstasy.

As Leo sat there at the foot of the window, he realized that he was faced with a rather impossible choice. Review the files? That was hardly going to happen. Go home to his wife and make love to her to get that beautiful image out of his fractured mind? Maybe. Go into his office, lock the door and get out the man-sized tissues? That sounded about right.

THE END


End file.
